


Becoming Human is Easier Said Than Done

by JelloPuddinPops



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gavin Reed Redemption, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Worth Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:35:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24856180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JelloPuddinPops/pseuds/JelloPuddinPops
Summary: RK900 is an android in every sense of the word. After deviating, he struggles with finding his place in the world and figuring out what it means to be human. He also scared a baby by accident and hates himself for it.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900 & Gavin Reed
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	Becoming Human is Easier Said Than Done

RK900 is an android. While he may technically also be a deviant, “android” is definitely the first term that comes to mind when interacting with him. Connor, an RK800 and his predecessor is definitely the more “deviant” of the two. Even before deviating, Connor had the capacity to interact with others in a friendly manner, to change his facial expressions appropriately. 

RK900 wasn’t so lucky.

After first deviating, lieutenant Anderson had offered him a place to stay. He had accepted since he’d nowhere else to go at the time. After living there for a short while, RK900 discovered that he was not a good fit in the household. 

Connor and Lieutenant Anderson had an amiable banter that RK900 simply couldn’t contribute to. They seemed very close and understood each other on a deep level and were able to poke fun of each other and express affection with a natural ease that RK900 couldn’t even imagine. The few times he had tried to insert some comment or quip of his own into a conversation, the other two seemed more surprised that he had chosen to speak than anything, making him feel all the more unwelcome. 

During his stay they had urged him to decide on a name for himself other than “RK900” but he felt undeserving of having one. His name was technically “Connor” as well according to Cyberlife, but he refused to be more of a bootleg version of the RK800 than he already felt he was. He repeatedly brushed them off, telling them he would come up with something eventually.

Once he had begun working at the precinct and earning his own paychecks, RK900 moved out from the house and began staying in a small apartment closer to work. 

While Connor has been worming his way into the hearts of the others through his charm and his friendly disposition, RK900 has been gaining something of a notoriety around the precinct. His inability to determine which facial features are appropriate depending on the mood of any given social interaction combined with his large frame and rigid body language have not been particularly helpful in building relationships. 

He had been designed specifically as an improvement to his predecessor, to succeed where Connor had failed. Unfortunately for RK900, an android who is the ideal model to locate and destroy deviants has little use in a world where being a deviant is no longer a crime. These so-called “improvements” have done nothing but set him up for failure in this new world. It was abundantly clear to him that he was really the inferior between the two RK units.

Currently, RK900, the most deadly android in all of Detroit, is sitting on the closed lid of a toilet in the last stall of the precinct men’s restroom. His LED is a solid red, his elbows resting on his knees as he holds his face in his hands.

Today officer Miller had brought his one-year-old son to the precinct for the day. 

The child had just begun learning to walk and had been stumbling around the bullpen all morning. The other officers had each taken turns wandering over to the boy and fawning over how cute he is, while RK900 had opted to stay at his desk. Admittedly, he had been slightly curious about the child, as the boy was actually older than RK900 himself and it was interesting to him that humans had to endure such long phases of development before reaching maturity. At the same time, he knew that none of the other humans enjoyed his company and this child surely would be no different. 

At around noon, RK900 noticed the child approaching him. 

He had been facing the opposite way from the boy, but due to his advanced programs it was easy to detect things going on from any direction. He heard an officer try to coax the boy from him, but the little tot carried on his way. RK900’s mind was running at a million miles a minute as he scoured the internet on how to interact with children. He turned his gaze just in time to see the boy stopping next to his desk, looking up expectantly. 

RK900 readied himself. He knew that although this human’s understanding of language is minimal at this stage, it is beneficial to its development to speak to it regardless.

“Hello, Damien Miller,” RK900 said to the child. 

The corners of the boy's lips turned upwards and his eyes and mouth widened.

RK900, having not thought this far ahead into the interaction, assumed that the correct response would be to replicate the facial expression. He bared his teeth and pulled his eyelids back, looking directly into the boy's eyes. 

Unfortunately, the attempted interaction failed. The boy’s expression shifted, his lip quivering and eyebrows raising. RK900 felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. The boy began to wail and an officer ran over and scooped him into her arms, shooting a glare towards the android. 

RK900’s LED flashed red as he stood up, accidentally towering over the shorter officer. She backed away slightly, but RK900 didn’t notice. His focus was on the eyes of every officer in the room burning into his skull. With movements that were even more robotic and jerky than they normally were, he made his way out of the room, hands shaking. 

Unsure of where to go, he eventually decided on the bathroom, where he is now. 

The feelings he’s been harbouring for months come back at full force. He is a burden. He is an inconvenience. He even made an innocent one-year-old baby terrified. He is a monster. He does nothing but bring down the mood and make people uncomfortable. The only reason he’s even tolerated at the precinct is that he is fast and effective at his job. 

Maybe he should speak with Fowler about working from home. Giving all the precinct the benefit of his abilities without forcing them to endure his existence. 

He wonders if maybe he’d be better off quitting and finding work elsewhere. A job with fewer people. Maybe something where he can put his inhuman strength to use, like construction or perhaps moving heavy cargo. Maybe he would even like it. 

But what if he didn’t? The thought makes him frown.

Would it really be worth it to spend his life doing manual labour that he didn’t enjoy? For that matter, would it really be worth it to spend his life being hated by everyone at the precinct? What is the point of his existence? He is merely a broken being unable to experience emotions properly and only able to inflict negative ones on others. The only use he has in the world is his job. Is it really worth it? Doesn't someone like him existing do more harm than good? 

He finds himself wishing that Cyberlife would have had the foresight to know that the revolution was inevitable. They could have spared themselves the waste of time and money that was RK900, designed solely for a task that was proven unnecessary by the time he gained consciousness. 

If only they could have given up after creating his predecessor and spared the world from having him in it. 

“Hey.”

He jumps slightly at the sound and hears a knocking on the stall door. He frowns, unused to not detecting that something was coming from a mile away. He must have been really wrapped up in his thoughts. 

“Hey, are you okay in there?” a voice comes from the other side of the door. 

“...Occupied,” RK900 says evenly, hoping he will go away. 

“That’s not what I asked, idiot. Are you decent? Open the door.”

He stared at the lock for a few long seconds before ultimately reaching up and flipping it open. The two stare at each other in silence for a moment. RK900 absentmindedly notes how it’s interesting to be looking upwards at the shorter man for once. 

“Hello, Detective Reed,” he says, void of emotion. 

“You alright in there, tin can?” Reed says. 

Whatever RK900 had been expecting, that was not it. Detective Reed was one of the less well-liked people at the precinct also, but it was common knowledge that he was hardly amicable towards androids. He seemed to be extending what humans would refer to as an “olive branch”, for some reason or another.

“Yes, Detective,” RK900 replies. 

“Are you sure about that? Your mood ring is kinda giving me a different idea,” Reed gestures towards his LED.

RK900 says nothing, raising his hand to cover his temple and averting his eyes. 

“Listen,” the detective sighs, “It’s not your fault, what happened with the kid or whatever. Kids are assholes, they’ll cry at anything.”

“I appreciate your sympathy, but it is abundantly clear that my actions were the direct cause of the child’s distress. I most definitely am at fault,” RK900 retorts.

“Okay, maybe, but that doesn’t mean you’re automatically evil or something, dipshit. You just don’t know how to deal with kids yet, that’s all. That's normal, kids are nightmares.”

RK900 is not convinced. He looks pointedly up at the detective, “I am incapable of knowing how to deal with kids. I am incapable of knowing how to deal with anyone.” 

Reed makes a face, before dropping down into a low crouch and resting his folded arms on his knees. Now, just below eye level of the seated RK900, he asks again “Are you really alright?”

RK900 wrings his hands together, skin retracting in spots from the pressure of his grip. 

“Come on, what’s the worst that could happen if you talk about it?” Reed asks.

RK900’s brow furrows in thought. The detective had a point. Everyone employed at the precinct already loathes him, surely Gavin Reed would be no different. It’s impossible to make himself any more hated, so there isn’t much to lose. Perhaps attempting to explain his worries aloud could even be beneficial.

“Fine,” RK900 says, “My issue is that despite having been employed at this precinct for months I have failed to form any positive relationships and have only succeeded in making every human or android I come into contact with uncomfortable.”

The detective is looking at him now with an unreadable expression, “Okay, and why do you think that is?”

“I am a failure as a deviant. While it is true that I have the freedom to choose which orders I follow, I am fundamentally broken. I cannot determine the appropriate responses in interactions and I am not capable of understanding emotions which makes me undesirable to be around,” RK900 says, voice still mostly even.

“Right… what emotion are you feeling right now, then?” Reed asks.

“I am feeling… d-distress?”

“Can you be more specific?”

RK900 pauses, collecting his thoughts, double-checking definitions of different emotions and comparing them to what he feels. Looking at the floor he continues “I am experiencing guilt, shame, and frustration, Detective.”

“Huh, it sounds to me like you have a better understanding of emotions than you’re giving yourself credit for. Not so hard, is it?” Reed says with a small smile, "Though it's pretty fucking sad the only emotions you have felt often enough to understand are all negative…"

"My initial assessment was correct, Detective. Even if I am sometimes able to identify what I’m feeling, I am still unable to respond to humans naturally and unable to express my feelings to others effectively through facial expressions.” 

“Really? Have you taken a look in the mirror recently, dipshit?” Reed asks with a chuckle.

RK900 tilts his head in confusion. 

“You’ve been crying for a good while now,” the detective says, “You really didn’t notice?”

“What?!” RK900 demands, standing up. The detective stands up as well, dodging to the side as RK900 bolts out of the stall. Resting his hands on the sides of the sink and leaning forward, he analyzes his face. 

Just as the detective had said, the android's face is streaked with what appear to be tears. After a quick analysis, RK900 finds that the fluid is a clear cleaning solution that is meant to be expelled to flush foreign particles from his optical receptors should his vision be impeded. Upon further inspection, he finds that his face is flushed blue and there is unnecessary tension in his brow, cheeks and lower lip. He attempts to remedy this and let his facial features settle back into a neutral position but finds himself unable to. 

He darts his eyes to where Detective Reed had appeared beside him. He’d almost forgotten he was there and quickly lifts an arm to wipe the tears away with the sleeve of his jacket. Glancing back at the detective he mutters “This has never happened before…”

Reed gives him a sympathetic smile and pats him on the shoulder, “Don’t worry, big guy. You’ll get used to it. You're not exactly an open book, but I can tell you're gonna get the hang of it eventually.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well... you wanna know what I think?” Reed asks, continuing at RK900’s nod, “I think you’re perfectly capable of everything you’re worried about. I think all you need is some time to experience things firsthand before you understand them.” 

“But… why? One of the first signs of deviancy is to display emotions. Every other deviant already understands these things right from the start.” 

“Maybe you’re just a little different,” Reed shrugs, “Humans learn emotions the same way. Nobody is born and immediately knows everything. You have to experience something that makes you feel and have someone to help you understand what you're feeling. That's part of why kids cry so often, they don’t know what the fuck is going on. It takes time for them to become well adjusted and learn how to respond to things.”

“Are you implying that I am comparable to a one-year-old child, Detective Reed?”

“I mean… how old did you say you were?” Reed smirks.

RK900 simply squints his eyes at the detective, feeling his jaw tighten slightly. 

“See! Now THAT’S an expression, tin can!” Reed laughs, “You’re getting a hang of this whole ‘emotions’ thing already!”

Seeing that the android has seemed to calm down enough, Reed begins to step towards the door. 

“Wait!” RK900 says, causing the detective to look back, “Why… why are you being nice to me?”

“Nice, huh? Haven’t heard that one in a while,” Reed chuckles, scratching his chin, “I don’t know, tin can. I just… it’s really clear that you’ve been struggling. None of the ‘nice’ people were giving you a chance, so I figured you’ll just have to settle for me.” 

“I meant why are you being nice to me, an android,” RK900 says.

“Oh,” Gavin winces, “Yeah, that. I’ve been trying to get past that. Everything in the last year or so kinda forced me to go through some self-reflection. I realized that the times were changing and that if I didn’t change with them I’d get left behind. I didn’t wanna become one of those racist old boomers that I hated growing up. I thought you weren’t… real people. I thought you were trying to trick us. I was wrong. I guess I’m trying to make up for that now.” 

“If you thought that androids aren’t real people, that they aren’t human, then wouldn’t you hate me the most of all androids? It’s barely possible to tell I’ve deviated at all.”

“Nah, you’re fine,” Reed waves him off.

“What do you mean by that, detective?”

“Well, sure you’re kinda robotic and stiff most of the time, but that doesn’t mean you're not a person, dipshit. You're a deviant. So what, you’re struggling with grasping emotions and social interactions and having a hard time making connections with people? What’s more human than that?”

RK900 says nothing.

“Look, you seem to be focused on being this fucking… ‘perfect human’ for some reason. That’s an oxymoron, tin can, perfect humans don’t exist. Everything about being alive is a struggle, the fact that you’re trying anyway is proof enough that you're a real person just like anybody else.”

“I-” he clears his throat, “I wasn’t aware you were also a philosopher, Detective.”

“Fuck off, I read books sometimes!” Reed says defensively. 

“So… that’s why you’re being nice to me? Because I ‘struggle’ as you put it?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Reed shrugs, “That’s probably also part of being human. Helping people who are struggling, you know? I’ve been so fucking fixated on denying other people’s humanity that I feel like I kinda forgot about my own. I guess I'm just trying to do what I can now..” 

They are both silent for a moment before the detective gives RK900 a nod and continues towards the exit. 

RK900 mutters a soft “Thank you,” before he reaches the door. The detective gives him a small smile. 

"See ya later, tin can," he says, and leaves.

He simply looks at the place where Reed had been standing for a moment. That was the first time where a human has left an interaction with him with a smile on their face. 

He turns back to the mirror, taking in his appearance once more. There are still traces from his distress visible, and he figures he should stay where he is until his face becomes more neutral before returning to his desk. 

Wait. 

Distress is an emotion. The others don’t like him because he does not display or understand emotions. Would hiding his expression when he finally is able to make a genuine one not be counter-intuitive? 

He stares into the reflection of his optical receptors for a moment longer before turning to leave the restroom himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Might add more to this but idk. 
> 
> Feedback is welcome and feel free to let me know if there's any mistakes.


End file.
